


the wind-worn afternoon shading into night

by oldtune



Series: all day all over the city [4]
Category: POKEMON Detective Pikachu (2019)
Genre: Accidental Baby Acquisition, Gen, Happy Ending, Hijinks & Shenanigans, POV Second Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-14
Updated: 2019-07-14
Packaged: 2020-06-26 16:34:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19772143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oldtune/pseuds/oldtune
Summary: go about your day with a certain confidence -- if you're ambushed by the mafia, that's their problem.





	the wind-worn afternoon shading into night

You're just not built for this. The lying. It's just way too stressful for you is all. Not _as_ stressful as being thrown into the streets so fast your head would spin ( which is what your landlord will do _if he ever finds out_ ) and starving to death cold and alone but still. Very stressful.

It all starts because you find an egg. Or to be more specific, the egg launches itself at your face and you manage to bat it away before it hits your poor pokemon, taking a well deserved nap on the top of your head after a hard day. 

_Haha_ , you think, laughing quietly to yourself because everything hasn't fallen to pieces yet. _Bat it away_. 

Your zubat makes a protesting squeak at the suddeness of your movements so you stroke his little head and whisper an apology while he settles, bending down carefully to pick up the colorfully patterned egg. It trembles in your grasp like its afraid and because your heart is about as cold and hard as an overripe pecha berry and just as prone to bursting at the slightest pressure, you take off your scarf to wrap it in, holding it close to your chest. Your heart wobbles perilously at the thought of a pokemon ( _one not even hatched yet_ ) displaying fear at being held. 

Later, you will pinpoint this exact moment as the beginning of the end. But this is not later. 

You take the egg home and spend an eternity frantically searching how to care for pokemon eggs on your phone. The egg remains wriggly which is to say it spends a lot of time attempting to bounce out of your arms and presumably rocket around your room breaking your furniture and as a grand finale escape dramatically through a smashed window. You sit cross-legged in the middle of your small apartment and hold the egg in your lap, shushing it when it gets too excited. It quiets down when you speak to it and you're incredibly grateful that it doesn't seem scared anymore. 

Searching yields many websites which all say close to the same thing.

Step 1: take care of the egg by being nice to it and keeping it safe and warm.

Step 2: learn how to make milk and buy bite proof bottles and soft blankets for your new arrival. 

Step 3: an elaboration on the previous steps in incredible depth.

You learn more about powdered milk than you ever have before. You look over brands with a newly enlightened eye and try to figure out which ones are the best. You are going to get only the _best_ and softest things for this little egg. It's counting on you. 

Loud pounding at your door pulls you out and back into reality. The knocking is harsh and anger bleeds in through the wood in a furious red haze. You remember with sharp clarity, the kind of man your landlord is.

You remember the Rule.

* * *

A week of dodging your landlord and furtively knitting blankets made from the thickest, softest yarns you can find despite the fact that you only learned how to knit three days ago and everything comes out strangely lopsided and uneven, you find yourself at home scrubbing the floors with a lemon cleaning agent and wood polish that reminds you of sunnier days.

Your hands are colorfully bandaged at the fingers because you never know when to quit and needlework is not for the clumsy but the afternoon sun is shining through the brightly mismatched curtains ( one green and the other yellow ) and you're singing along with the radio. 

Your zubat sits on his place of pride at the top of your head and warbles along, flapping his wings in excitement. The egg is in a low chair where you can see it, swaddled in blankets and still safe and sound. You sing louder in victory and the egg bounces a little in cheerful response. You finish the floors and move to the counters of your small kitchen, wiping them clean before moving yourself and your audience to the living room a few steps away. 

There are wax melts on and the room smells of warm caramel and vanilla, as cozy as the room itself. It's a small cluttered space but you've got a plush carpet and scattered pillows on squishy armchairs and an old wooden bookshelf near the lamp. You straighten up the room a little and flop into the loveseat with a sigh. You don't get many days like this, where you're motivated and energized enough to clean the whole house but they're always nice when they happen. Zubat winds his way down to your shoulder and perches there, leaning against you while you pull the egg closer in a hug. 

Out of all the stressful weeks you've had, this one worried you the most. Your landlord isn't a kind person and he has it out for you specifically, demanding your presence at strange hours, accusing you of things you'd never done and with increasing frequency after the recent disaster that hit the city almost as if he thinks you were the one responsible for it.

There are no rules against having more than one pokemon, especially in Ryme City, as long as you aren't trying to train them to battle but your landlord has his Rule. No pokemon where he can see them and never more than one. It isn't a problem with Zubat, who spends his days napping under your hat and his nights practically invisible but you have no idea what pokemon was going to hatch from this egg and well. Baby pokemon take a lot of taking care of. You can't hide it forever.

You searched high and low for somewhere safe to take it but to no avail. The Ryme Recovery Centre where you often volunteer sends you back with sincere apologies. Apparently the pokemon in the egg has already become attached and they can't in good conscious separate it from you. It would be detrimental to its hatching and in the worst case cause harm. So you take the egg home and try not to think of how terrible it's going to be to say goodbye, how much you want to keep it even though you can't.

You have to take it to the Centre as soon as it hatches.

A sharp pang of pain goes through your heart and you sigh heavily. 

It's for the best. 

* * *

The egg hatches bright and early the next morning, just before you finish your morning routine. Zubat trills in alarm as the egg wobbles and nearly falls to the ground and you dive forward to catch it. It lands securely in your arms but continues to shake. You take in a deep, steadying breath and watch in wonder as the shell breaks and small paws appears, followed by a spiky head and wide eyes, a mouth already curving into its first ever smile. 

"Oh," you whisper, soft and overwhelmed. "Hey there."

The Togepi blinks its eyes and chirps softly and your eyes nearly well up with tears. It looks up at you with something fragile and sweet in its gaze even as you fumble for a blanket to wrap around it. You try very hard not to cry.

"Pi!" it says, and Zubat leans in close and makes a friendly chirp right back, sound scanning it as he does so he can build its image in his mind. 

You stumble to the kitchen, holding Togepi in trembling hands. Constant practice over the course of last week makes bottle making a cinch and you test the warm milk on the back of your hand to see if its too hot, before sliding down on the kitchen floor and cradling the baby pokemon in your arms.

Zubat lands on your shoulder to be closer and you offer Togepi the bottle. It takes it and drinks enthusiastically, attempting to hold the bottle steady with its own tiny paws. The sight makes something warm burst to life in your chest. 

The moment stretches out like taffy, delicate and sweet. Your heart has already made space for this pokemon and you know it. The alarm in your phone vibrates, buzzing straight your thoughts. You have work today so you let Togepi finish its bottle and prop it up on your unoccupied shoulder, patting gently at its back until it burps. Then you gather up your pokemon, along with your wallet and keys, wrapping Togepi up warmly and making sure Zubat is comfortable before exiting your apartment.

Someone is already in the hallway. It's Rumble, making his way slowly down to the door right next to yours with the handle of a briefcase held gently between his jaws. The old Pyroar perks up when he sees you and pads over on silent paws, dropping the suitcase in front of his partner's door before coming over to you.

You bend down to say hello but your hands are too full to give him the usual petting. Rumble notices Togepi almost immediately and stretches up to say hello, brushing his nose gently against it and lowering the temperature of his flames to a warm crackle so it won't hurt. You can't help but smile at his kindness. 

Your mind decides to give you a series of images that wind your chest tight. Snapshots of what it would be like to introduce Togepi to the others, your neighbors and their pokemon, a rag-tag crowd of people you have grown to care to for, strange and kind and always helping each other out in little ways. You imagine for a moment what it would be like if you could raise it.

It's been so long since you've raised a pokemon especially one so young but it's not the kind of thing you would ever forget, a thumbprint pressed soft against your soul, a mark that will never fade. You'd make sure Togepi was happy and well-cared for, able to grow to its fullest potential. Nobody else could do it like you could, you're sure of it.

It's the thing you have the most confidence in, taking care of pokemon, teaching them to reach for the stars. But you can't. Not this pokemon. You can't.

Togepi's laughs pulls you out of the moment and back into the present. Its small, delighted giggles make your lips twitch up for an instant and Rumbles purrs with his whole body, obviously happy to meet a new pokemon and such a little one at that. Your smile dims as you remember what you'll never have now and your chest winds tighter and tighter. 

"Hey," says a voice from right behind you. "What kind of face is that?"

You don't startle, having already felt the blue-gold typhoon of his arrival before he even spoke. Del looks concerned, brows furrows and wide shoulders set in something like a fighting stance. His arms are crossed as he looks at you and his voice is like thunder growling in your ears. 

"What's the matter?" says Del and you clear your throat and try to wipe away your wretched expression.

Your next door neighbor offers you a smile that shows all his teeth and beckons for Rumble, who winds around his legs and purrs.

"Nothing much," you say, struggling to keep your voice steady. "I've just got to drop this Togepi at the Centre before work today and I'll. I'm going to miss the little guy is all."

Your voice trails off in a whisper and Del makes an understanding noise. He reaches over to pat your shoulder, awkward but well-intended and you give him a thankful smile. "I'll be fine."

"Hope it goes well," he says quietly, patting your shoulder once more before going into his apartment. You hear him murmur to his partner as Rumble comes over to say goodbye to Togepi and Zubat. "Come on Rumble, inside."

You take a deep breath to steady yourself and walk forward. It's safer this way.

* * *

You decide to walk. You usually wouldn't, even with the weather so nice, but it's Togepi's first day out and you want to make this last before you have to say goodbye. So you walk. 

Togepi coos excitedly at everything it sees, propped up in the circle of your arms to watch the world rush around your small group with eternally wide eyes and an excited smile. It chatters in baby talk, nothing you can really understand yet, but its innocent wonder at everything softens the steel band around your heart.

You find yourself smiling and talking along, simple words and descriptions as you point out things of interest and elaborate on the things Togepi points out. Zubat chimes in occasionally, hiding from the sunlight under your hat but still awake and alert.

Your conversation circles around things like "that's the sky! that's a cloud! it's a pretty cloud! the sky is very pretty!" and it's silly but it's the happiest conversation you remember having in such a long time. You take your time getting to Centre but when you finally arrive it feels like its been a short while.

The receptionist recognizes you immediately, greeting you with a smile. She directs you to the nursery, a bright sunny place with colorful walls. You know the staff here and you trust them to be kind but Togepi is a warm, trusting weight in your arms and handing it over hurts.

The staff member that takes Togepi has a gentle hold and you know it will be in good hands. His expression is sympathetic as you clear your throat and croak out a desperate plea to take good care of it before you rush away, blinking away tears that blur your vision.

Zubat wraps his wings around your head in a hug and trills sympathetically. You can feel his sadness like fog weighing you down, gray-black, a fresh grief for someone new who had lit up your lives for a short moment. You come to work late, with red-rimmed eyes and stay overtime, your hands heavy on the computer keys but still finishing more work than anyone else there. You walk home in silence, neither you or Zubat feeling up to conversation, and hope the day doesn't get worse.

It does. 

Your landlord is a miasma of violent reds and acidic greens, standing outside your doorway with a look on his face like he wants to start something. You contemplate just turning around and leaving, maybe walking around the block until he goes away but you have no energy. You just want this over with. 

"Where's your blind beast? I haven't seen the ugly thing around for a while, where is it." he says and for a split-second the anger that rises in your chest is enough to wipe away everything else. Your hands ball into fists and your nails bite into your palms, shaking.

You eye the jutting curve of his jaw and his nose, the sneer warping his mouth and your blood pounds in your veins. It would be so easy. You remind yourself he's not worth it but the disgust is evident in your voice when you reply. "He's asleep. What do you want?"

"Watch your tone," he snaps. "Rents due next week and if I don't have it on Monday — "

"You'll have me out by the afternoon," you finish dully. "I'm aware. I'll have it ready."

"See that you do," he sniffs and casts a suspicious eye over you and your surroundings, as if he'll see Zubat there and get to make a fuss. Zubat stays hidden, but you can feel him trembling with fury. He leaves you with one last dark look and bites off an angry noise when you pretend not to see it. 

You fish out your keys and the lock clicks open. You consider slamming the door behind you but he's still hanging around and you don't want to hear his voice again. Zubat flies out, squeaking angrily as you slump back against the door. His voice climbs to a piercing but near-imperceptible pitch and you huff in amusement and open your arms for him to fly into.

"I know," you say soothingly. "I know you can take him but we're trying not to cause trouble right?"

Zubat grumbles in agreement and you stroke his wings with your fingers until he relaxes.

"Besides," you murmur. "You said you wouldn't like being so big anyway, didn't you? Don't push yourself for that guy's sake, okay? I'll take care of it."

Zubat trills in agreement and the two of you stay like that for a long moment. 

* * *

It rains the next day and one after that and the one after that. Much to your dismay, you wake up disoriented most mornings, too used to having another person to care for in the house even if Togepi was only an egg at the time. You can't focus on anything, running your hands across things you made in your excitement, patterned pillows and lopsided blankets, thinking of going to the Centre and leaving them there for Togepi to have. But surely, the Centre had better things to offer.

Blankets that were properly made for one.

Your thoughts chase themselves in circles even after you leave those things behind. The day passes you by in a haze and you forget your umbrella, so the rain drips cold down your back the whole way home.

At least Zubat is safe from the cold, you tell yourself on the miserable walk back. You're just about there when you hear a cry, small and pitiful and utterly familiar. You freeze in your tracks and turn your head side to side in an attempt to hear better.

It comes again, a high wobbling noise that only a very small pokemon would be able to make. You rush forward, heart squeezing tightly in your chest.

_I_ _t couldn't be_ , you tell yourself. _There's just no way_.

It is.

Huddled near the steps to your apartment is Togepi, dripping rainwater and whimpering. You don't even think. Your fall to your knees in the muddy ground and throw your open and Togepi doesn't even hesitate before running at you. You rush home, whispering apologies and comfort all the way there.

A few moments later, after you've divested yourself of wet clothing and dried off, bundling up both your pokemon in warm sheets, you hold Togepi in your arms and wonder. Togepi holds tight to your sleeve with one tiny paw even as you give it its bottle. You bend down to lay a soft kiss on its forehead.

"I'm sorry," you say. "I won't do it again."

It blinks up at you with eyes heavy with sleep and dozes off in your arms.

Togepi is never far from you after that. You call the Centre the next morning and are greeted with frantic apologies. 

"We are so sorry," cries one of the caretakers. "We took our eyes off her for one second and she was just gone! We didn't know what to do. She hadn't been eating or sleeping properly for the last couple of days and we thought she'd finally taken a nap but we came back to check on her and she wasn't there. We can come pick to pick her up this time? We promise not to let her out of our sight!"

You hold Togepi tighter to your chest. "No. It's no problem, I can keep her. I just don't have some of the means to keep her safe and cared for so —"

"Oh that's no problem!" gushes the caretaker, interrupting you before you can finish. "We can take care of that, as an apology for all the trouble we've put you through! Please don't worry about it!"

"Right," you say slowly, baffled by this turn of good luck. "Thank you?"

"We'll send you supplies right away! Just let us know what you need and we'll take care of it! Come back to visit soon, the Centre is always open for you!."

"Right," you say, more firmly this time. "I appreciate it."

The caretaker lets you off the phone with one last cheerful goodbye and you look down at Togepi, curled up against your chest and rubbing her paws against her eyes. Your smile blooms across your face, bright and happy.

"Looks like you're here to stay," you tell her. "I'll deal with everything else as it comes."

* * *

Your neighbors are delighted by the newest member of your family.

Del claps you on the back and his laughter booms in your ears as he offers to look after her while you're at work. Gemini, from the apartment two doors down from yours, and his Murkrow Jewel invite themselves over for tea, surveying you with eyes that glint with perfectly matched mischief. Both pokemon and partner glow a reassuring onyx so you don't worry at all when Jewel's murder invite themselves in through your window, perching on your furniture like feathered shadows with glowing eyes.

A few of them converse with Zubat while the others offer Togepi a myriad of soft, shining things. You know better than to ask where they came from. 

Sylvia from the apartment across from yours does not show up until several weeks into your new routine of caring for Togepi, rushing to work and dodging your landlord at every opportunity. It's one morning, after you've dropped Togepi off at Del's and are halfway through the door that he appears, sickly green and pulsing red as always.

"You're up to something," he sneers. "Don't think I haven't seen you, coming in and out at odd hours, acting chummy with the rest. I know what you're doing."

"What?" you manage. "What are you on about?"

" _Don't_ play coy with me, you —"

And that's when Sylvia arrives, powerfully elegant as always, and using her glamorous presence like a blunt object. "Why hello, darling. I've been trying to catch you for _days_! Where have you been all this time?"

She offers a dazzling smile to the landlord and her voice goes soft and sultry. "You don't mind if I steal them away do you?"

Her Liepard chuffs in amusement under its breath, curling around your ankles and driving you forward out the door while the landlord sputters behind you. Sylvia herself appears moments later, curling her arm around yours and tugging you forward. Her voice turns back to its more natural, clipped tones.

"I never thanked you for covering Del's rent while he was gone, did I?"

"You didn't need to," you say, lengthening your stride to keep up with her. "That's not why I did it."

She offers you a catlike smile, eyes curving up. "I know."

Sylvia guides you through unfamiliar streets to a small, cozy cafe and pays for your coffee. The barista's Chimecho sings a Heal Bell right as you're both walking out through the door and you feel the tension of the last few days disappear, leaving you feeling bright and fresh. Sylvia smiles and walks you over to your job, leaving you with a box of pastries for you and your pokemon to share.

You don't ask her how she knows where you work. You have a feeling she won't answer but the clear, shimmering white and warm blues of her sly amusement spell safety and you're not worried at all. 

Work is easier than usual that day which is your first warning sign. Usually, you spend a lot of time trying to fit your programs together into coherency and still get a lot done but today your fingers fly over the keys and the program fits together like a familiar puzzle. You feel much better than usual, clearer. Which is why you're not as worried as you should be when your boss gives you call to come up to her office, sounding stressed and harried.

Her smile is strained when she speaks to you, apologizing for interrupting your work and praising you on the companies latest success with the pokemon training program you perfected. You grow more and more uncomfortable as the praise goes on. 

"Which is why," she says. "I couldn't think of anyone else to trust with this. Most of our employees have never trained a pokemon for battle and you're the only one here with proper qualifications."

"I don't do that anymore," you tell her, feeling wary.

"I know," she sighs, rubbing at her temples. "But there's no one else I can trust with this. You're the only one who can handle it, I'm sure."

"Handle what, exactly?"

Your boss points with a pen at a large holding cage, one that you somehow missed when coming in. You feel dread rise up in your chest and she catches your expression, smiling apologetically. "I'll be giving you hazard pay along with a bonus. I really need your help."

The cage rattles dangerously, rocking with the impact of a hit you can't see. 

"I want double whatever you're offering and an explanation."

"Done and done," says your boss promptly, smiling at your exasperated expression. "I knew I could count on you."

You shake your head and approach the cage, flicking the latch open. A small pink pokemon explodes from the gates and turns on a dime, fluffy ears already rolled up for a hit. You scoop it up before it can punt you clear across the room and sigh. The Buneary eyes you warily, ears twitching in clear warning.

You close your eyes for a moment.

You should have seen this coming. 

* * *

Introducing Buneary to Zubat goes much better than you expect it to. This is credited in part to Zubat's sleepy disinterest in participating in battle. Instead, he rises up from his nest in your jacket, wobbling a little, and gently headbutts Buneary in greeting. Buneary flops over.

You consider this a job well done and pack up, eager to home and rest. Disregarding the looming threat of your landlord which threatens the fragile equilibrium of your already overstressed mind, you turn your mind to other things. Things you can control. Shopping. 

To your surprise the department store is still open by the time you leave work with Buneary tucked under your arm, watching the world go by with narrowed eyes. Every now and then it sees a strong-looking pokemon and tries to rush forward, wiggling futilely as you keep it from fulfilling its dreams of vicious battle and decisive victory. You sigh deeply and hold it closer so it can't dash off and wreak havoc.

Besides this week's groceries, the department store also has most of the other things you're looking for, a new pair of knitting needles, some felt and soft yarn and finally, a twin baby carrier. You're not taking any chances with a Buneary bred for battle. You know better than that.

Buneary kicks its legs a little as you help it into the carrier but after a few minutes it seems to calm down. Every now and then its ears roll up in preparation, looking to brawl with a nearby Pancham or an innocently flying Pidgey and everytime, you tell it _no_ in calm, firm voice. It listens. You don't touch its ears but you do stand still each time, giving it a moment long enough for it to relax and calm down before you move on.

Once home, you knock on Del's door and wait. 

The lock clicks and Del opens the door. One eyebrow slowly crawls up as he looks at you: arms full of shopping bags, a wiggling Buneary strapped to your chest, and an expression you have no name for spread across your face.

Behind him, you can hear Togepi's excited cheeps and Rumble's purring. 

"Wait here," says Del and you know him well enough now to hear the amusement lurking under the steady surface of his voice. "I'll be right out."

"Thanks," you say and try not to look so harried. You don't think it works, because when Del comes back he turns you around with one hand and straps Togepi onto your back without a word. Then he pats you on the shoulder and takes half your groceries. 

"Tell me where to put these," he says, once you're both inside your apartment.

You point towards the kitchen and let him help with putting away the groceries. Zubat zooms around overhead, full of energy now that the sun has fallen. Togepi waves her little arms and chirps in one-sided conversation for a while, no less excited for the lack of response before Buneary starts answering her back in short, grumpy replies. The gist of their conversation goes as such.

Togepi: That's my pillow! And that's my brother! And that's my blanket! It's soft! I like soft! Do you like soft? That's my bed! I like my bed! It's soft!

Buneary: I don't like soft.

Togepi: I like soft! Soft is good! Soft is best! Do you like soft?

Buneary: I...don't like soft.

Togepi: But soft is good! I like soft!

And around and around in circles. You thank Del for his assistance and Buneary for being patient, to which it responds by flicking its ears sideways, embarrassed by the attention.

Zubat implores it to try out Togepi's blankets and see if it likes them and as you deposit the two pokemon on your couch and watch them paw through the pillows and plush material you wonder if things will be alright. And then Buneary attempts to demonstrate a high kick and you throw yourself forward in a frantic attempt to stop it from launching its tiny body through the walls.

With Buneary safe in your arms and the walls still standing, you come to realization that you will be doing this exact same maneuver many, many times.

* * *

Time passes in a suspiciously peaceful manner. Your neighbors pass in and out of your daily in their regular fashion and your landlord stays the same, which lulls you into a false sense of security. You wake up early each morning and walk to the nearby park after breakfast, putting your own training program to good use for Buneary's sake.

It works out its energy in running circles around the rest of your pokemon, slowing down only when Togepi toddles after it in order to make her happy. Zubat takes advantage of the cloud-covered sky before the sun comes out to stretch his wings. 

You explain the concept of fun training for Buneary using visual aids to show day divided into colors, time for exercise, rest and food all neatly laid out across the week. You offer them different activities, running, catching soft balls and doing easy acrobatics and bring different types of food to choose from, snacks for energy, trail mixes and sweet treats.

It's been a while since you've done this and it comes back you in bits and pieces but after a while you have a nice routine going. 

Buneary still loves to battle but now it understands why its not allowed to and picks different activities based on what it wants that day, though it never stops trying to slip under your guard and find itself a fight. Your other pokemon are not as active. Togepi is much too young for complex endeavors but likes to feel included and Zubat has done it all before. 

Outside of your attention, things are changing.

Sickly red and green lurk just outside your vision. 

Your name passes from hand to hand, along with pictures that you never notice being taken. 

You, hanging out in the balcony at three am, bags under your eyes as you try to feed Togepi her bottle and get Buneary to sleep at the same time. Zubat is settled neatly on his customary place at your head, the only relaxed figure in the picture. Your posture screams of fatigue and thinly-veiled adoration for the pokemon in your arms.

You standing wild-eyed in front of a food card trying to juggle ice cream and carry your pokemon and open your wallet and talk into the phone you’re holding between your shoulder and ear all at the same time and just barely succeeding. The picture captures Buneary's attempts to break towards freedom and the thrill of battle while Togepi tries to mash her face into the ice cream cone. Zubat is barely visible under your hat, sleeping.

A pair of large eyes and a small, fuzzy body follow your footsteps on days when it rains. 

You notice none of this.

Not just yet. 

One sunny morning, to commemorate a peaceful week in which Buneary did not attempt to attack a single individual, you strap in your pokemon and go on a walk to a newly opened pastry shop instead of your usual park. Buneary wiggles excitedly in the carrier, proud of its accomplishment and chatters with Togepi as you make your way down the street. Zubat dozes lightly, chiming sleepily in to the conversation every once in a while and you feel light on your feet. Happy. 

The patisserie boxes your sweets up and offers you a bag, which you take. The air is cool and all of your pokemon are calm and settled, almost sleepy in the early dawn-light. You decide to grab a coffee and find a nice bench, people-watch a little bit while your pokemon have their treats but your plan is derailed by a police officer with a Snubbul by his side and another with a Pikachu riding his shoulder. They both show you their badges.

"Excuse me," says one of them, stern and serious. "We'll need you to come with us."

* * *

The box of pastries lie unopened in their bag, on the floor. You sit in an uncomfortable chair, in an uncomfortable room, with two detectives watching you with narrow eyes. The suspicion comes off of them in bitter yellow waves. You don't know what to say.

"Let me repeat this for you," says the detective with the pikachu. His name slips from your mind even as you try to remember it. "Your landlord says he has evidence of your participation in the underground battle arenas. He says you consistently display dangerous and thrill-seeking behaviors and that you've been training pokemon for battle. We want to get to the bottom of this as soon as possible but you must know that such actions _will_ result in having your pokemon taken away if they're true. Do you have anything to say?"

You don't. The detective's voice reverberates in your head and you feel cold from head to toe. The words repeat themselves in your head. _Such actions will result in having your pokemon taken away. Such actions will result in having your pokemon taken away. Such actions will result in having your pokemon **taken away**_.

You can't breathe and your mind is full of static. Your mouth opens without your permission and spits out the first thing you can think of. 

"I don't have any pokemon."

"What," says the detective.

You wonder if its possible to die of fear or worse, embarrassment. Your mind screams at your mouth to stop but your mouth boldly forges on without your permission.

"I don't have any pokemon, Mr. Officers. Sir."

"I can see them," says the detective. "Right there."

"They're not real."

"What," says the detective.

"I make plushies. For a living. These are," you breath goes short and your vision wavers. "These are just..um. Some of my work. Very realistic."

The detectives exchange looks, one half-worried and the other half-entertained.

Your pokemon all hold their breaths and attempt to look doll-like. The detectives exchange baffled looks this time and one of them shakes his head. 

"You know," says the one with the snubbul, looking somewhat worried about your pale face and labored breathing. "You don't seem much like someone who does illegal battling."

"Nope," you say. "Plushies only." 

"Okay, I'll bite," says the other. "Make me a pikachu plush and you're off the hook."

"Alright," you tell him, feeling faint. "Sure. I'll do it."

"Detective Goodman..."

"What, Yoshida look at them. Come on. Do they look like a thrill-seeker to you? Even remotely dangerous?"

An indignant noise spills from the back of your throat. Detective Goodman raises his eyebrows at you. 

"Take a deep breath buddy. Have some water, you look like you're about to keel over."

You take the proffered cup of water and drink deeply. 

Yoshida shakes his head and sighs.

"Not really," he says and Detective Goodman nods, turning back to you with a serious expression.

"What was it that set you off?" he asks. "And don't worry about the plush. I didn't mean that."

You swallow heavily and set the cup on the table, pushing it back with your fingertips. Your voice is heavy with emotion but you manage to choke the words out anyway. "Having my pokemon taken away."

Silence reigns for a moment. 

"I'm sorry," he says. "We won't. There's procedures and investigations for that type of thing anyway. It wouldn't happen immediately. You can tell your pokemon to relax."

Yoshida sighs and shakes his head. "There was a lot of evidence but now that I think about it, it was too polished, too prepared. You don't look anything like the pictures."

You look up, baffled. 

"The pictures?"

Yoshida pulls out a thick file and there you are, dressed in your old trainer outfit, looking through the camera with distant eyes as if it didn't exist, more focused on the person behind the lens. Or the pokemon behind the lens, as you remember. You stare at the picture. 

"That's me," you say finally.

"What really?" says Detective Goodman.

"Yeah," you say, nodding. "I used to be a trainer but I'm not anymore. I did a lot of official battles. Never unofficial. There's no rules or regulations for those. The pokemon get seriously hurt. I'd never agree to participate in something like that."

The detectives exchange glances. "So you _are_ familiar with training pokemon? Are you training one now?"

You shake your head. "The only pokemon I could be said to be training is Buneary. My boss, she rescued it from the battle circuits and didn't have any one else qualified enough to care for it. It has a lot of energy it needs to burn off and bad habits to shake. I take it to the park every morning and let it play and run as much as it wants. I have some exercises so it won't feel bored but that's about it. No battle training."

"Huh," says Detective Goodman. "Alright. We'll get to the bottom of this but it's late now. Now let's get you and your not-pokemon back home."

"Alright," you say, suddenly exhausted. "Thanks."

You stagger up to your feet and the detectives walk you out. You don't notice your pokemon glaring daggers at the both of them but Detective Goodman clears his throat and apologizes to you once more. You nod vaguely. 

The rest of the evening passes in a blur once you get home but for a moment you think you see your landlord's shocked face just as you arrive.

You're too tired to focus so you don't pay it any mind.

Other people do.

* * *

You wake up the next morning on the couch, where you collapsed after coming home. Your eyes are squeezed tightly shut but the sunlight still finds its way in. You roll over with a sigh, making a valiant attempt to shove your face into the soft pillows and stay there forever when a tiny noise makes you go still. You roll back and lift your head, only to find Togepi lying flat on your stomach, listening to it gurgle.

"Hey," you say, voice hoarse. "Good morning."

"Pi!" says Togepi, raising her head for an instant before flopping back down. You can't help but smile.

After sitting up, slowly and carefully so Togepi wouldn't fall off, you look over the room to find your other two pokemon in hiding. You swing your legs off the couch only for them to land on something soft and silky. You look down.

The floor is full of material, all sorts of colorful yarns and threads, velvet pieces, satiny felt, half-finished blankets from your last attempt at making them less crooked. Your knitting needles are in their basket, along with a myriad of buttons and feathers and small, shiny appliques. Jewel's murder must have dropped by. 

You blink away tears and your smile trembles. They did this for you, your pokemon. You must have worried them.

Buneary's pink topped ears wiggle, visible from where it's hiding behind a pillow. Zubat is a small blue-tinged shadow behind the lamp, peeking out occasionally as if you won't see him. 

Happiness comes in a sudden wave, bubbling up from the center of warmth in your chest and spilling out until you shake with mirth, laughter spilling from your mouth. Togepi looks delighted, while the others slowly creep out, hope clearly visible in the lines of their bodies. 

You open your arms wide and scoop them up, hugging them tightly. "Thank you! I'm sorry I worried you all." 

Buneary sniffs in response but pushes closer and lays its head on your shoulder with narrowed eyes, as if daring you to say something about it while Zubat chirps in relief. You hold your pokemon close and take a deep breath. When you breath out, you imagine all the bad feelings and worry blowing out of your body and it makes you feel a little bit better.

"Come on," you say to them. "Let's eat breakfast and get to work. We have a pikachu plush to make, remember?"

Your pokemon straighten their shoulders in determination and you glow back at them, all of you trying to show the others without words how ready you are to help out, how none of you have given up yet and that you're all going to do your best.

Breakfast is a cheerful affair. Fluffy pancakes drizzled in golden syrup, sliced fruits and freshly made juice, the pastries from yesterday neatly arranged on a platter for later. You make sure everyone is clean before they leave the kitchen, holding up Togepi in your arms so she can wash the syrup of her face with her tiny paws and offering Buneary, who's determined to be independent, a step-stool to climb onto so it can reach the sink. 

You and your pokemon troop into the living room where you spend a good amount of time lying on the carpet watching how-to videos. How to make plushies. How to crochet plushies. Best material for plushies. You feel almost nostalgic, remembering another situation that had you in almost the same position. Except back then, it was just you and Zubat and an egg. 

Luckily, you have all the materials you need to get started. While your pokemon rummage through the materials and get themselves tangled up in brightly colored yarns, you try to make a small pikachu out of felt. There's a lot of trial and error involved but after a while you manage to make one that looks...actually good. 

"Look!" you say.

Your pokemon turn as one and you snort at the sight of them. Zubat flaps his wings indignantly, or tries to. Securely wrapped as he is in a half-made scarf, he doesn't really get far. Buneary has its arms crossed and is upside down sulking, trapped in trailing yarn as Togepi, the only one free studiously applies an apple applique to its cheek. 

You cover your mouth and cough to disguise your laugh before going about freeing them with a mock-stern expression that you know they don't really buy. Togepi sticks a pecha berry applique on your shirt, right above your heart and toddles off to decorate Zubat. The clean-up takes forever and by the time you're done and dressed, the sun is just beginning to dip down.

The weather is colder than usual so you make sure all your pokemon are clothed warmly before you set out. The Ryme City Police Department looms overhead but you swallow your trepidation and walk in. 

You have a pikachu to deliver. 

* * *

"Oh my God," says Detective Goodman. "Holy shit, this is really good. This is _really_ good!"

His Pikachu chirps in excitement and he continues,"You even made the little hat! This is so great, how much do you want for it?"

"Er," you say, voice lilting up uncertainly. "I wasn't really intending to sell it?"

Detective Goodman's face falls and he makes a sad noise. You flap your hands in alarm.

"No! No I didn't mean it like that, it's yours!"

The detective perks up again, both he and his Pikachu radiating a pleased peach. 

"I just don't want any money for it," you continue and the detective hums thoughtfully. Despite his goofy demeanor, his eyes are sharp. And kind. You are sharply reminded of someone else. 

"Alright," he says. "How about this? If you can make another, I'll pay you for that one? How about it?"

"You want another one," you say, somewhat baffled. "Another pikachu?"

The detective shakes his head, grinning. "How about a snubbul this time? Or, a cubone!"

You nod slowly, thinking of the materials you have. "I can do that."

"Great!" says Detective Goodman. "We have some new information about the case too. If you'll come with me?"

You walk with him to his office and he directs you to a chair. You sit and the detective scrubs a hand through his hair and sighs.

"Alright," he says. "First of all, we apologize again for how yesterday went. The information we got painted a really bad picture and with the battle rings going on right now, we were trying really hard to get ahead of it and roped you in. We should've gone over the information better. I'm sorry."

You nod, accepting his apology and the detective gives you a bright smile.

"Thank you. And now we have good news and bad news. Which one first?"

"Good news?"

"Good news!" says the detective, rubbing his hands together. "You are completely cleared from suspicion and everything you said checks out! Your track record with pokemon is truly impressive, you've done a lot of good work. And it looks like you're well known at the Recovery Centre which is another good mark in your favor. Unfortunately —," he winces. 

"Unfortunately?"

"Well the bad news is that you're kind of well known."

You freeze in place. "I'm not."

Detective Goodman gives you a sympathetic look.

"You weren't," he corrects. "Before you started caring for that Buneary you were just a regular person. But people other than me and with much worse intentions have been looking into you, wondering why you've been entrusted with the care of a pokemon that disappeared straight from the circuits. I'm sorry to say that well...you're no longer as low-profile as you were trying to be."

Your hand comes up to rub at your face and you sigh, before petting your pokemon and reassuring them you're fine.

"Alright," you say. "What now?"

"You're taking this remarkably well. Were you expecting it?"

You think about that for a moment, before answering.

"Not expecting it per se. It's just that before, I thought I'd get ambushed by some reporter someday and they'd splash my face everywhere and everything would be over just like that." You snap your fingers loudly. "I was expecting to have to explain myself again, about how I don't want the spotlight and how I didn't do what I did for that. And maybe they wouldn't listen again and maybe I'd have to move to another place. "

You stop to take a breath, steadying yourself before continuing. "I wasn't expecting to be a suspect in anything though, and that changes things. If it's for the sake of helping those pokemon, I don't mind if it comes out."

Detective Goodman nods. "We hope it won't come to that. You seem like someone who values their privacy a lot. But if it ever does, I know a reporter that's dedicated to doing the right thing. For now, we need you to stay in the background, stay safe and keep a low profile." 

"I can do that."

"Well you've been doing it great for the past couple of years, Prof. Keep it up," he says with a smile. 

* * *

You spend the next couple of days going between your home and the police station. Your boss calls you in with an offer to give you some time off, having been contacted by the police department.

"Sorry for the trouble," she says. "And stay safe. I don't want to lose one of my best employees."

"I _am_ your best employee. There are no others," you tell her and she laughs. You send her a small plush rendition of herself, pen in hand and arms crossed sternly.

In fact, you end up making a staggering amount of plushies. Detective Goodman apparently spread the word about your prowess and you spend your days gratefully distracted by making plush pokemon and slowly getting better at it. Your phone lights up with a new request every two days or so and you find yourself relieved that you're too busy making things to worry. 

Your landlord hasn't come within three feet of you and his regular colors have been replaced with a strange uncertain mixture tinged with bitter yellow. You don't know what to do about it so you leave it alone, swallowing your anger every time he appears in your peripheral. It's not worth it, you remind yourself (and Zubat). Things have worked out fine despite him.

For your neighbors, who have been also strangely absent, you leave a small basket at the front of their doors each with a plush of themselves and their pokemon partners. For Gemini you fill his basket with several tiny murkrow carrying shiny buttons in their claws. For Del you add a large red-gold scarf looped around plush Rumble's body. For Sylvia, a gray cashmere sweater and an elegant ribbon for her Liepard who you've noticed loves little accessories. Each basket carries a little card and bag of baked goods.

You know exactly what your neighbors are busy with and you wish them the best of luck. 

It's raining when you finally set out towards the police station, which has become more and more familiar with each visit. You think you've gotten a good handle on most of the people there, including the intense girl who ordered a psyduck plush and her partner in crime-busting who carries the cubone plush Detective Goodman ordered on his keychain. You think one of them must be the reporter. Your money is on the Psyduck's partner. She has eyes too sharp not to be. 

Lieutenant Yoshida offers you tea when you arrive and gives you a rundown of the latest news on the case. It's almost over and they're on the verge of closing the last battle circuit. The station is a little quiet, which the Lieutenant explains is a result of most of their officers taking part in this last leg of the mission. You wish him the best of luck and go on your way. 

The rain comes down heavily on your umbrella and the streetlights look soft and hazy. People rush to and fro across the streets, some using their briefcases or jackets to take shelter from the rain. Your pokemon stay close, Buneary bouncing into puddles occasionally while Togepi sings a little song for the rainclouds, peering curiously at her reflection in the small pools of water. Zubat flies back and forth, swooping in and out from under your umbrella and making you laugh. 

Frantic footsteps come up behind and you turn on your heel, only to have something collide with your legs. Your pokemon shout in alarm as you go down in muddy heap. You fight your way up, only to come face to face with a pokemon. A Pancham that clings tightly to your leg and whines in pain when you touch it.

You go cold.

Looking around quickly and seeing nothing out of the ordinary, you take of your jacket and wrap it around Pancham with gentle hands. 

Buneary is strangely silent as you tell your pokemon to stick close and begin to walk at a normal pace as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. You notice it inch nearer and scoop it up along with Togepi, watching in stunned silence as it wraps its arms around the Pancham in your arms and begins to soothe it. Zubat takes up watch position on your head, alert. 

For a moment, everything seems fine. Or as fine as it can be given the circumstances.

Then Zubat stiffens sharply and sounds the alarm. 

You dive to the left, holding Pancham tight to your chest. A pained cry emits from the hurt pokemon and you manage a quick apology before dodging the next attack. The ground cracks beneath you and you pick up the pace, running as fast as you can while sharp slash marks rip through the sidewalk. A stray swipe sends burning pain across your leg and you almost buckle. You hiss and push yourself forward instead, eyes scanning frantically for somewhere to hide.

As if summoned by your panic, an alleyway appears at your side and your throw yourself in, feet pounding against the wet asphalt and eyes blurry from the rain. Your mind whirls and your thoughts crystallize in the rush. There is no one around to protect your pokemon but you. The police are gone. There's only you and civilians and now that you're in alleyway that's sure to stop at a dead end, there's only you.

You skid to a halt at the end of the alley, chest heaving and slowly, carefully put down your pokemon, hiding them behind a heavy crate. All of them except for Zubat. Buneary rises up, eyes blazing and ready to battle but you shake your head and place Togepi straight in its arms. It holds her shaking form carefully and looks up you with liquid eyes.

"I need you to take care of them," you whisper, indicating Togepi and the trembling Pancham. "I need you to protect those two okay? I'm leaving them to you. Can you do it?"

Buneary speaks directly to you for the first time since its arrival, glowing gold in its determination. _I can do it_. 

"Good," you say. "Thank you."

An unfamiliar voice chimes in. It's the Pancham, staggering up and holding your jacket out to Buneary and Togepi. _Me too_ , he says. _I want to help too._

You run a hand softly across his head and smile at his bravery. Buneary pulls its friend down behind it and after giving you a quick look, transfers Togepi to his arms instead. Standing up and shaking the rain from its fur Buneary bounces in readiness and sets itself in front of the two of them like a shield. 

_No_ , it says firmly. _I can take care of it. I'll protect you this time_.

There's a story there but you don't have the time to ask about it. Instead, you lay a steadying hand on your pokemon's head. For a moment everything is still. Then you get up.

"I'll leave it to you then," you say, just as the sound of shouts and angry pokemon come closer. You leave them hidden and with Zubat on your shoulder you stand with your back to the wall and wait. 

The air is cold in your lungs and you can feel it sink into your body. Your heartbeat slows down.

You wait.

The prey will come to you.

* * *

The thing about people who hurt pokemon for their own amusement is that they're all cowards. They come in groups as if it will keep them safe, as if their added numbers won't be just as easy to tear through. You can already see that their pokemon are off, eyes faintly purple, snarling. Some of them are already wounded. The anger builds and builds in your chest, familiar in its redness, the hot bubbling feel of it like lava rising molten in your chest and ready to spill over.

"A _zubat_ _?_ " one of them laughs, incredulous. "Really? Man, and we thought you'd put up a fight!"

"Where's that buneary," another calls. "That stupid thing cost us everything!"

Some mutter amongst themselves while the others laugh and laugh. The rain comes down but you don't feel the cold, the sound of white noise buzzing in your ears. Clear droplets land in your lashes and fall, slow and crystalline.

"Do you want to change?" you say to Zubat, not caring if they hear you or not. "Are you ready now?"

You know you're both ready. The two of you have stayed the same for a long time, holding each other close, not wishing to lose your safety and the comfort of familiarity. You know he feels the same as you do, but just in case you ask. As always, you know his answer before he says it.

_Yes_.

The hunt begins.

"Confuse Ray."

The dizzying array of light flashes through the alley and your opponents cry out, startled and angry. Their pokemon leap to attack but Zubat is already gone, a shadow winging his way around them to take them out. _Air Cutter_. A pokemon goes down and a flash of blue light overtakes the alley. A person howls in shock but it doesn't matter. Golbat is already on the move. _Cross_ _Poison_.

"What the hell is going on? What are you doing!"

A hand slashes forward and the pokemon come in a wave, claws gleaming, coats dripping purple. Another _Air Cutter_ pushes them away from you, another blue flash of light glows, briefly illuminating their faces twisted in snarls and your own narrowed eyes. _Cross Poison_ is faster this time, like you knew it would be and then finally. _Venoshock_.

The pokemon drop into a faint. The people freeze. Crobat wings his way to stand behind you, red eyes gleaming, sharp teeth curved into a vicious smile. Your eyes are dark with fury.

"Hello," you say, voice full of false pleasantry. "This has been a fun time."

You can feel their fear overcoming their anger, turning it dull gray and watery blue. Crobat leans forward, a nightmare in the dark. "Goodbye."

* * *

The station is full of panicked people when you return. It feels strange, like you're seeing the place for the first time in a while, when in fact it's been only a few hours since you left.

"Prof!" yells Detective Goodman, elbowing his way through a group of harried officers and offering apologies all the way. "Where have you been, are you alright, what happened — _woah_. Who's your friend?"

Crobat ducks his head shyly and you lean against him, feeling a tired smile form across your face.

"You've met," you tell him. "And I'm sorry to interrupt but...I need medical care."

_"You what_?"

Your legs throbs, bleeding sluggishly. You point to the Pancham on Crobat's back and then to your own injury. Detective Goodman's eyes grow wider and wider but to his credit, he snaps out of it fairly quickly and takes charge. You find yourself hovering off the floor and it takes you a moment to realize you're being carried. A faint sound of confusion escapes your mouth but before you can protest, he's already handed you over to a pair of medics.

You recognize the liepard plush on one of their bags.

"Sylvia? What?"

Your neighbor gives you a fond smile and continues bandaging your leg while a medic with an Audino partner heals and calms your pokemon. 

"I'm glad you're alright," is all she has a chance to say before a voice soars over the rest, calling your name.

"Excuse me, pardon me, let me through!"

You recognize the voice and the pokemon partner _and_ the psyduck plush. The girl straightens up and pushes her hair back from her face, smiling bright and strong.

"Lucy Stevens," she says. "Reporter for CNM. What can you give me on this story?"

You look the reporter in the eyes and say, "Everything."

Sylvia places her hand lightly over your wrist in silent comfort.

So you close your eyes and you tell her.

Everything.

Your past as a trainer, as someone who had thrown themself into infamy for the sake of your very first pokemon, a zubat that had been severely injured by its trainer. By the very person meant to protect him, to take care of him. Your rise as someone to fear, someone who battled mercilessly, whose pokemon knew no hesitation, who wouldn't be stopped for money or titles. You fought everyone who challenged you and everyone whose pokemon called for help and begged for safety, no matter how dangerous, no matter how powerful.

Eventually, your pokemon grew old and you had to stop. But by then your name was already known and more than your dislike of the spotlight, which could at least be helpful in spreading awareness, you feared for your pokemon's safety.

If they were attacked by someone who resented you and couldn't fight back, if got hurt, it would be your fault. They were your pokemon and your responsibility. So you talked to them and asked what they wanted.

They wanted a place to stay, a safe place away from people, where they could take care of the others, the ones who didn't want to battle, the ones who never wanted to see a human again in their lives.

So you took a title. And you let them go.

Your very first partner pokemon was the only one to stay with you, refusing to evolve in order to keep you from discovery. The others disappeared safely.

Soon after, so did you.

Lucy Stevens writes down your every word with a feverish intensity, stopping you only once or twice to ask for clarification. She jots down every detail and builds on the words of Detective Goodman and Lieutenant Yoshida, who drop by to add their own side of the story about that night's raid and the people you battled.

By the end of it, there's no one there that isn't exhausted. Exhausted and fulfilled, knowing that everyone is safe and soon everything would be set to rights.

The story breaks that very night.

You go home early the next morning, just as dawn is beginning to break, with a new pokemon added to your family and a sense of profound relief. 

Somehow, you think everything is going to be alright.

* * *

Time passes the way it always does. 

You find yourself busy with work, having been called up by the boss again and offered your very own office. One big enough for all your pokemon. You continue making plushies although the proceeds now go the Recovery Centre where you still volunteer. These days you work specifically with pokemon rescued from the battle circuits.

Your neighbors drag you out on days where everything feels too heavy. You drown yourself in work to forget about the loss of your quiet. Del introduces you to his friend, a youngster named Ifrit who's just begun working at the Centre. They're overjoyed to receive a litten plush as thanks for alerting you whenever too many people appear in your section of the Centre. Gemini comes in at odd times, most often at night and along with Sylvia, introduces you to every hole-in-the-wall coffee shop. The bumps in your life smooth out, slowly but surely. You take every day as it is and thank your lucky stars.

Tonight, the stars are bright in the night sky and your pokemon are asleep, scattered around on the blankets you've covered the balcony with. Togepi makes soft, sleepy noises and rolls her head off your thigh, landing on a pillow nearby. Pancham and Buneary lay sprawled out across a sea of piled up blankets and the remains of their attempt at a blanket fort. You take a deep breath and let it out, enjoying the peace and quiet.

_The best thing about this story breaking_ , you think, _is that you haven't seen the landlord since._

And good riddance. You're not going to deal with someone like that or let him push you around, not anymore. You have nothing to lose now.

Crobat leans his whole weight against you and grumbles.

"Sure, sure. Okay fine," you say. "If he ever pulls anything like that again, I'll let you deal with him. Satisfied?"

He hums with deep satisfaction. _Yes_.

You shake your head and smile. 

You could have never imagined having this much happiness in your life but now that you have it you're going to hold on to it with both of your hands and make it last.

Hopefully, forever.

* * *

Epilogue:

Togepi tumbles from her house through the small flap on the door and spends a long while trying to get herself upright, tangled up as she is in her favorite scarf, too long for her by far. With determined chirp, she manages to free herself, turning towards the door nearby. She toddles off with great determination, coming to a halt just seconds later. With her small paw, she taps at the door in an approximation of knock. The knocks are very quiet but she knows the pokemon inside can still hear her.

"Pi!" she chirps loudly. "Pi pi!" 

A cold presence appears behind and she freezes, falling silent. 

Then a familiar shadow swoops in from behind, scooping her up by the too-big scarf looped around her body. The landlord swallows harshly as her big brother smiles widely with all of his sharp teeth. She chirps at him and he flinches, turning on his heel and walking away only to find himself stuck in place. 

Uncle Gemini's eyes are glowing very brightly.

"Hello! Why it's so lovely to see your face! And so _early_ in the morning," he says, throwing his arms around the landlord who freezes, just like Togepi did before. "Why I do wonder, what could have _possibly_ brought you out?"

Uncle Gemini's smile is really wide but not very friendly.

"Let's take a walk!" he says and pulls the landlord away. "I see the lesson hasn't stuck yet!"

Togepi waves at him and Uncle Gemini's face turns soft and warm.

He waves back.

The door opens. 

Togepi and her big brother go in to have teatime with Uncle Del and Togepi knows when she goes home, she'll tell her fluffy brother and her bouncy sibling all about her adventures today. And she'll share her cookies too! Even if they are her very favorite kind!

The End.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks everyone for reading and for your patience! 
> 
> technically, this last fic should be on my oc ao3 but i didn't want to mess up the series progression. 
> 
> this series is now complete story-wise but remains open for prompts.
> 
> a few extras -  
>  **1 - the pokemon as berries:**  
>  a. zubat - oran berry, blue, familiar and healing. occasionally mistaken as a chesto berry.  
> b. togepi - pecha berry, very sweet and also very tender - handle with care.  
> c. buneary - cheri berry, blooms with delicate pretty flowers, a berry with very spicy kick.  
> d. pancham - pomeg berry, sweetly spicy and apt to make a pokemon friendlier.
> 
> **2 - how did zubat double-evolve? is that realistic?**  
>  a. it's a result of high friendship. if a zubat with very high affection evolves into a golbat in one battle then it will evolve into a crobat in the next / as soon its exp fills up again! 
> 
> thank you all for reading and if there's anything else you'd like to see from this series, drop me a prompt wherever is easiest for you.


End file.
